


No Pressure

by orchidbreezefc



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Trolls on Earth, old as BALLS, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 05:39:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3756478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchidbreezefc/pseuds/orchidbreezefc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John wants to show Karkat around Earth, but maybe the mountains weren't the best place to start. It's cold as balls, for one, and for two, Karkat's relationship with heights is... complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is old (remember 2011 when everyone shipped this and nothing hurt? Good times.) but I dug it up and I figure it's a perfectly serviceable little fic given that I rarely upload anything. Done for a marathon challenge, prompt word 'eagle'.

Your name is John Egbert, and you think maybe you should have picked the beach for your Earth Introduction Bro Outing. But then again, you were crashlandedborn into Washington, not Florida, so maybe this is just what you get for clinging to the wrong meteor as a baby. Good job, baby John; you hope he’s happy now that you are freezing your windy ass off.

Speaking of windy, it is very windy, and that’s probably why Karkat is shivering through both of the jackets he is wearing. Both of them are yours, because Karkat does not fully understand the concept of temperature. He tried to wave you off, under the impression that a long-sleeved shirt will be sufficient for any climate. You insisted he accept one of your jackets anyway because you knew how much he would bitch if he found himself on a mountaintop with only the one layer of clothing, long-sleeved or otherwise. 

Turns out you were smart to do it, but not smart enough, because he bitched at you anyway when the one jacket was not warm enough for him. Now Karkat is wearing the jacket you brought for yourself, too, and you are cold as fuck, but Karkat isn’t complaining that much anymore, so you guess it’s an okay tradeoff.

Your troll companion repeats what he’s been saying ever since he tripped on a rock after stepping out of the car: “Your planet is fucking shitty.” He hunches up his shoulders and squints up at the sun, which seems extra harsh through the thin, weak air. “What is even the fucking purpose of being able to go outside when the sun is out if it’s cold as goddamned night anyway?”

“Coming here may or may not have been a pretty stupid-ass decision,” you admit. You kick your legs into the abyss beyond the precipice you’re sitting on. You wonder if this is what normal people mean when they say they feel like they’re flying. There is certainly a low earth-to-empty-air ratio up here. As if Karkat heard you, he scoots back a bit from the edge, but you can see him kind of leaning forward, too. Like he wants to fly, but is too scared to try.

“At least we’ve got—a good… view.” You stop, then lean over and urgently take Karkat by the shoulder. He grunts in surprise. You hiss “Shoosh!” before he has a chance to even say anything, because with his loud mouth you know if he even _tried_ he would fuck this up. “Look over there,” you whisper, and point to a large (like whoa-shit big) bald eagle, chilling out on a small outcropping nearby. It alternately gazes majestically over the surrounding mountains and preens its feathers, which is a lot less impressive-looking.

Karkat’s eyes widen, and he whispers—like, actually whispers! you never would have guessed his voice could even do that!—“You have those on Earth?”

“Bald eagles? Yeah, they’re like an icon for our country! Why, do you have them on Alternia?”

He’d done his little what-the-fuck-does-that-mean nose-wrinkle at the word ‘country’, but he doesn’t ask. Instead he says, “No. Actually, they were my consorts.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Really? They flew and everything?”

“ _Everything_ flew in that fucking game,” he says, and wow, his voice is so bitter it’s like biting into an orange peel just listening to him.

You once thought maybe trolls would be all warmblooded like animals because they’re kind of little and pointy. Turns out, especially in light of the jacket fiasco, they’re more like really big bugs, with clicky shit and pupatory stuff. Maybe Karkat’s one of the kinds that doesn’t have wings, like an ant or something, but not the kind of ant that has wings. You think it’s pretty sad.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to fly,” you offer. He just scowls at you and does something that looks like he’s trying to bury himself in the jackets. They are awfully big on him.

“Well, how is it being here, then?” you ask, gesturing out in front of you. He peers into the space below him again, face unreadable, so you jump up. When you offer him a hand, he looks at it like it’s a snake about to bite him. You would know. He saw a snake on the way up here.

You shake your hand a bit in his direction, and he looks up into your face, like he’s trying to tell whether you’re playing a prank or not. Silly Karkat. You’re a master prankster and you’d never break your poker face like that. All the same, he takes your hand and you pull him up. Then you slip behind him, wrap one arm around his waist, and push him forward.

“You’re king of the world!” you shout, and laugh as he windmills his arms frantically, then turns around and literally climbs onto you to get away from the ledge. He’s like a really big gecko or something.

“I wouldn’t have let you fall,” you reassure him.

“Fuck—you,” he growls, clinging to you desperately. Despite himself, he is really cute sometimes.

On the second try, you successfully dislodge him. You smile encouragingly and he looks up at you, his hands still on your chest just in case. You take his hands in yours and hold them between you. Karkat blushes like a fiend. It makes your stomach feel funny.

You push him off the ledge.

You allow yourself a second or two to appreciate the screaming and frantic swearing—birds literally take off from the trees, it’s amazing—before you dive down and catch him with the wind, alighting in midair just beside him.

He’s halfway through screeching another “Fuck you!” when his voice breaks off and he goes silent. He’s shivering even more now. He looks really frightened. You were going to give him a winning smile and charmingly say, “Told you I wouldn’t let you fall,” but you may have seriously shit the bed here.

“Oh god, Karkat I’m sorry, it’s okay,” you babble helplessly, gathering him up in your arms. He’s making these tiny squeaks of what might be anger, but he clutches onto you so tight you may have to surgically remove him. You are so stupid. You pet his hair and mutter consolingly like he’s a dog until he stops shaking and tentatively looks down.

“We’re flying,” he says softly. He lessens his grip a bit and kicks out experimentally. And then he makes this funny little expression that doesn’t seem to fit his face, but it makes your stomach do backflips. It takes you a minute to realise that this may be Karkat’s version of a smile, but once you do, it looks absolutely radiant. It’s like a horse kicked you in the chest, only the horse was rainbows. You clutch him tight, because that expression is the only thing you ever want to see for the rest of your life.

Karkat looks back at you, and you don’t manage to hide your stricken expression in time. Karkat’s eyes turn very serious, and slowly he wraps his arms around your neck, leans up, and kisses you, clumsy and slow and perfect. When he pulls away, he’s smiling again and god. You think maybe you just fell in love a little bit.

“I should put us down,” you say breathlessly.

Karkat looks down again. “No,” he decides, “I like it up here.” He kisses you again.

You think maybe if you get into his jacket you won’t be so cold.


End file.
